Caged
by The Water Drinker
Summary: Marik was just a servant. Doomed to forever be caged behind the walls of a palace. That is, until he is captured by a foreign enemy and made to serve another king. Citronshipping


The first time Marik met the man he was currently serving, he had been the servant of another king. Not quite so glamorous, but then again, he hadn't complained. He was surviving. Even if he downright _hated_ being locked up all the time in a palace, and likewise had grown to hate the king he had served. He had been born into servitude. So being switched off into the servitude of another wasn't exactly a shock. The way he had seen it, he had merely been handed off from one asshole to another. He figured their level of assholery was about the same.

So here he was, stuck with the menial task of scrubbing at the limestone floors of his lord's palace. A sweat formed along his brow. He idly lifted an arm to rub the moisture off when it began to run into his pale purple eyes.

Back when he was a servant for Atem, he had had the awfully mundane task of being a scribe for one of the king's priests, and hardly ever saw the master of the palace. Yes, his previous master had been none other than the pharaoh himself. The living god, Horus. A lot of peasants and fellow servants or slaves might have been honored to serve the pharaoh, but Marik? No, not at all. In fact, he couldn't stand the sight of the arrogant man. Atem squandered his status by playing games and flirting with the slaves he demanded to dance and sing to entertain him on practically every occasion. And the man punished his servants for the most ridiculous reasons. Whoever dared beat him at a game of senet, however few and far between it happened, were sure to be whipped for their audacity.

It annoyed Marik. More so than it seemed to annoy any of the other slaves and servants. Perhaps the reason he had grown to dislike the pharaoh so much was because his father had sold him permanently into his services. And to make it worse, his father had worshiped the pharaoh so thoroughly that Marik had merely been a _present_. Not to absolve any debts or crimes on his father's behalf, simply... _a present_.

He took that thought back. It didn't simply annoy him, it _infuriated_ him. Never would he have the chance to ever own anything at all. Never would he be able to set his eyes on the Nile, or watch the final rays of Ra dim into night. Forever would he be stuck in the hellhole that was the pharaoh's palace.

Well, of course, until the day the Hittite King Bakura had attacked the capitol of Egypt. Marik had been one of the many servants stolen before the Hittites had been driven out.

Some might say he had been blessed by the gods. If he had abhorred the pharaoh so much, then surely he would be far more happy now that he was the captive of another. Though honestly, he wasn't. The point remained, he was still a prisoner trapped within mud-brick walls.

Marik let out a sigh as he picked up the clay bowl filled with water that had been brought in by another one of slaves fortunate enough to actually go outside of the palace walls. He walked towards the slaves' quarters with slow steps. As he was on his way, another one of the slaves rushed by him – almost causing him to drop the clay pot. He let out an irritated huff at the girl's back. Then suddenly, she turned around to stare at him as if she had just realized he was there.

She rushed towards him. The action caused Marik to stumble backwards in surprise. The slave girl seized him by the shoulders and shook him urgently as she yelled out, "It's a disaster, truly."

Marik's eyes had widened in surprise at her frantic words. He held the pot close to him to make sure it wouldn't fall, though in the process had allowed the water inside to slosh up out of it to dampen his tunic. "W-what?" He managed to mumble out through her jumbled speech.

"The king! The king is in one of his moods again."

As someone new to the kingdom of the Hittites, he was confused by her statement. "Is that... bad?" He wasn't sure what to make of it. Was the Hittite king going to come storming out of his room breathing fire and smiting the other occupants in the palace? He would have believed his imagination to be true with how frantic the slave girl was.

Realization dawned in her eyes as her once anxious demeanor suddenly mellowed. "I mean um... no. Of course not. Why would that be a bad thing?" A sheepish chuckle followed her question.

"Um..." Marik started, but didn't get to finish the thought as the girl gave his shoulders a rough pat.

"You know what? Here, let me take this," She took the pot from out of his hands before she continued, leaving Marik to relinquish his hold on it without much resistance. "And you go see to our lord's needs."

"I... uh, what?" Though as he asked this, the girl had spun on her heels and hurried off in the direction of the slaves' quarters.

Marik let out a sigh as he dropped his hands by his sides. Now he had to go appease the king? That's the last thing he wanted to do. Not to mention he would have to actually search through the halls in search of the king's chamber, being a new foreign slave and all. With another irritated sigh, he set about to walking around the Hittite palace.

* * *

He had been able to find it with the help of one of the guards. The tall, imposing man had pointed him into the right direction with minimal words. Though Marik had not missed the spooked expression on the man's face. It made him feel awfully uneasy. How bad was the king when he was in one of his "moods?"

Marik walked hesitantly up to the door. He placed his hands on it and moved his ear close. Inside, the Hittite king was shouting, and none too polite things. He pushed it open slowly, and took a peek through the crack. The king had his back to Marik and was throwing things about his chamber, looking agitated and enraged. Marik gulped down a pang of fear before he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside.

He had yet to say anything as he stared around the chaotic mess the king had made of his room. Marik took several small, hesitant steps forward before he started, "Um, my lord?" As he asked this, he lifted his gaze up just in time to see a glint in his peripheral vision as something had just narrowly missed colliding with his face. His body tensed up in shock. Slowly, he turned his head when he had heard a thud. What he saw nearly had him pissing himself.

There, on the wall, was a dagger that had become wedged within the brick with the force used to throw it. Its hilt wobbled.

Marik had to take a moment to check himself to make sure he had indeed not pissed himself at the realization that he had almost been skewered. To his near embarrassment, he saw the wet spot on his tunic, but then remembered it had been the water from before. He hadn't pissed himself, at least, not yet.

"Who the hell are you?"

Marik jumped with uneasiness at hearing the raspy, edgy voice of his new master. To avoid any more potential mishaps with deadly weapons, Marik prostrated himself before the king post-haste.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I am but a humble slave here to see to your needs." His voice trembled slightly, but he hoped it would be good enough to appease the Hittite king.

"I've never seen you before."

Marik looked up into the dark eyes of the man, and once he did, he quickly averted his gaze back to the floor. Those eyes were full of rage, it was rather unsettling. "I-I hail from Egypt, my lord."

"Egypt?"

Marik chanced another glance upward once the king had seemed to calm down somewhat. The man truly was an interesting sight – with his jagged, white hair and large scar tearing up through the flesh of his cheek all the way through his right eye. Maybe the man really could breathe fire. With how strong and able he looked, as if he could take on the crocodiles of the Nile, he wouldn't put it past him.

Indeed, his previous master looked much the opposite. The pharaoh was all lean muscles and was relatively short in stature. Nothing like the bulky man in front of him now.

"I was... captured... not so long ago."

After the king had taken a moment to assess him, he went back to his raging. Marik watched as the man sat on his extravagant bed while muttering out dark curses. Marik stood up cautiously from the floor. He eyed his master with apprehension before he looked around the room once more. Might as well start picking up the mess. It seemed a good place to start.

So he picked up some of the objects that had been thrown about the room and started putting them back in their places.

"Those damn _Assyrians_ think they can get the best of _me_? I'll show them. _I'll show them all_." Marik fumbled slightly at hearing the aggressive edge in the Hittite king's tone. He was just about to right one of the chairs with his free hand when he heard the man's voice directed at him. "You there." Marik straightened immediately with a sharp inhale when the king addressed him. He had nearly dropped all that was in his hands. He then turned to face the intimidating man.

"Y-yes, my lord?"

The king looked dangerous as his eyes narrowed on him. Marik gulped. "What is your name?"

"M-Marik, my lord."

The Hittite king gestured for him to come closer. Marik gingerly placed the objects down before hesitantly walking over to the man. He stopped a short distance away and stood awkwardly. He wrung his hands together in front of himself. A nervous habit he had picked up back in the palace of Egypt whenever he felt he was about to be on the receiving end of a reprimand.

"You're Egyptian, right?" Marik nodded. The king then reached out to grasp Marik's wrist to pull him down onto the bed. Marik let out a yelp at the suddenness of the action. He had fallen haphazardly in a chaotic mess of limbs. When he had managed to sit back up, the Hittite king was glaring at him. The man didn't give him much recovery time before he grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him forward. "So tell me, _Egyptian,_ " The word Egyptian was said with much contempt, that much Marik was sure of. "What does the Pharaoh have to say about my predicament? I'm sure he's laughing it up while the Assyrians continue to ravage my lands."

Marik shook his head. "I-I do not know, my lord." He wasn't sure what else to say. He wasn't exactly well-versed in all the territory disputes between the kingdoms. It wasn't really something he had cared much about. He only hoped he hadn't said the wrong thing.

Thankfully, the king released him, then completely disregarded him in favor of letting out another stream of curses. Marik eyed the man cautiously a moment before he got on his knees and moved over to the king. With great apprehension, he slowly placed his hands on the tense shoulders to begin to gently massage them. The Hittite king didn't seem to notice.

"Trade routes have been completely taken over by those bastards. I can't even send any more of my men to aid the Mitanni kingdom."

Marik didn't know anything about what the king was talking about, so he focused his attention on his massaging. There certainly were quite a few differences between the pharaoh and the Hittite king, besides just looks. In fact, he couldn't even remember a time when the pharaoh had been so worried or adamant about his kingdom. From what he had seen, the pharaoh typically relied on his priests and viziers to make the important decisions.

The Hittite king then let out a drawn out sigh. His shoulders slumped forward as he lifted a hand to rub at his temples. "Ranting isn't going to get me anywhere." Marik stayed silent and continued with the massaging. He saw the man lower his hand and then turn his head to face him. There was a smirk on the king's face. "I'm impressed you've stayed so long. Most would have run out by now."

Marik averted his gaze to his hands and their task. "I, uh, didn't know I was supposed to leave." The king chuckled.

"Indeed. I confess, having someone to listen to my ramblings has been quite relieving." The imposing man then stood up from the bed. He rolled his shoulders and let out a much more relieved sigh. "And you have quite talented hands as well."

Marik blushed at the praise. It wasn't something he was all that used to, and from a king no less. "Thank you, my lord."

When the king turned around to face him, he stared down at his hands that he had placed in his lap.

There was a pause as the king seemed to be considering what to make of him. After a moment, the king spoke up. "What say you, Egyptian, to a reward for your... outstanding bravery." The king had chuckled at the notion, but seemed serious in his offer all the same.

It had surprised Marik into looking up. Never before had he been offered a reward for merely doing what was expected of him. "A reward?"

The Hittite king nodded. "Yes, anything you desire."

 _Anything_ he desired? It didn't take long for Marik to think of exactly what he wanted. He hadn't even given himself time to think of the possible repercussions of his wish before he had already blurted it out. "I'd like to go outside the palace." It was only after he had said this that he wondered if the Hittite king would have him whipped for requesting such a thing. Maybe he should have asked for something more reasonable, like an extra loaf of bread for dinner.

But the king had surprised him yet again when he asked, "Is that all?" Marik stared for a moment before he gathered back his wits and nodded his head. The king shrugged before he turned around and started to head for the door while he threw a, "Come with me." over his shoulder. Marik hastily got off the bed and hurried to catch up to his master.

So he was led through the palace. Along the way, slaves and guards and servants bowed before their king with great respect. The Hittite king had acknowledged them all with a slight tilt of his head. When a servant had run into the king, muttering out several apologies after, he merely patted the young boy on the shoulder and sent him on his way. Marik just couldn't help but be reminded of what the pharaoh would have done in such a situation. With how childish he was, he probably would have had the servant punished.

The king led them to the stables. A horse was readied for the king as he hopped on top of its back. Marik had never been on a horse before. The idea was somewhat intimidating. He stood a little bit awkwardly in front of it.

The king extended his hand. "Well?" Marik gulped back his anxiety and took the Hittite king's hand to then be hauled up behind him. He heard the king chuckle at noticing his discomfort. "Hold on then." It was the only warning given before he gave the horse a slight kick into action.

Marik had grabbed onto his master in nothing short of trepidation. He had closed his eyes tight. The only thing that registered in his mind was the sound of the horse's neigh and the galloping hooves.

"I thought you wanted to see outside the palace, not the back of your eyelids."

Marik opened one eye to peek through. And once he had, he opened his eyes completely. The scene around him was amazing. He swept his eyes slowly across at the sparsely scattered trees and shrubs. There weren't many slopes, so Marik could see far out into the distance until the Earth met the sky. The clouds streaked across the sky in warm hues of red, pink and orange as Ra began His descent. He could see birds flying overhead, as if racing them across the land. It was quite the sight to behold.

It was so much more than he had ever expected it to be. He wondered how anyone could take something like this for granted. The feel of the wind whipping at his hair. The smell of fresh air. It was nothing like the dank, dingy halls of a palace. It was so much more, and Marik could feel the corners of his lips lifting up into a wide smile as he marveled at everything around him. He hadn't even noticed the king look over his shoulder to smirk at him.

They rode a bit farther until the king stopped his horse. He got off before he then beckoned for Marik to do the same. Marik did so and followed the man, feeling curious. He was led to a river, and when he saw it, his eyes widened in awe. The way the sky reflected off the large body of water was breathtaking. It was as if he could jump into it and land among the clouds.

Marik carefully lowered himself to his knees and extended a hand to reach into the water. The action caused small ripples to fan out from where he had disturbed the remarkable scene.

The Hittite king seemed to notice his excitement. "This is the Marassantiya. It is the very core of the Hittite kingdom."

Marik nodded to show he had heard as he stared out at the horizon. "It's beautiful."

He had never had the opportunity to see something so amazing in his life. He had always been locked up. He had felt so caged his entire life that seeing something so magnificent shook him to the core. And right now, he had never felt so free. He wanted nothing more than to spread his arms wide and feel the wind against his skin. To jump into the water and pretend for just a moment that he could stay here.

He could run. He could run free right now and never have to go back into the walls that had become his prison. The idea caused his heart beat to rise.

"Marik, was it?" Marik turned sharply when he heard his name. His heart hammered in his chest.

"Y-yes, my lord."

The Hittite king eyed him a moment before he smirked. "You can call me Bakura. No need to be formal when we're so far away from the palace." Marik nodded meekly. The king laughed. "It seems you like your reward a great deal."

Marik nodded again, more fervently this time. Yes, this had been a reward. Something he had never been given in the past. He had almost forgotten that.

After a long moment, the king then turned around and began to walk away. Marik had noticed the movement before he turned to focus his gaze back out to the scene before him. His racing heart had slowed. Even if he did run, where would he go? How long would he even survive? This king had given him something so important to him that maybe... just maybe... it warranted at least a try on his part. To try to stay and serve this man. Maybe he'd even be happy.

"Perhaps we can come here again if you like it so much."

Marik's head snapped around to stare at the Hittite king's back. Would he really bring him back?

Something filled up within his chest that made him almost tear up. What was this feeling? After a moment, Marik realized that this was what it must feel like to feel genuine joy. He then decided at that moment that yes, he really could be happy here. If he could get the chance to see this place again, he would be more than happy.

Marik then hastily stood from the ground. "W-wait for me, my lord! I mean, Bakura!" He shouted out as he rushed after his king.

Maybe he could have run off at that moment, but honestly, he would have probably been picked off by bandits or local wildlife. And who wanted to be eaten by a crocodile anyway?


End file.
